The Reluctant Cinderella. Christine Rimmer

him. “Sit here, beside me. I’ll boot up my laptop and we can get started…”

      Sitting beside her.

      Excellent idea. He took the chair she’d indicated and propped her portfolio up on the floor between them, then he sat back and watched as she took a laptop the size of Cleveland from her fat briefcase and opened the thing on the outer edge of his desk.

      “I’ll show you some of the work we’ve done.” She sent him another of those captivating smiles as the big screen glowed to life. “Then I want to give you a basic idea of the many ways Design Solutions can bolster and expand on the Banning’s brand. Finally, we’ll take a look at a few things in the portfolio. It’s always good, I think, to get a sense of textures and colors, to see firsthand how the print work is going to translate. We can do so much online and with computer programs now, but sometimes digital images simply aren’t the same as holding the finished product in your hands….”

      “Excellent,” he said as she started bringing up examples of work her company had done. Each one was different from the last, and each was terrific—clear and well-organized, with colors that popped and graphics that jumped right off the screen.

      As she began explaining how she would work her own particular magic on Banning’s image, Greg realized he was interested—and not only in the lush, peach-scented Ms. Schumacher herself.

      Her ideas for Banning’s were fresh and exciting. And Greg had been thinking lately that the company needed an upgrade on the image front. Their trademark black-and-red graphics had once seemed sophisticated and dramatic.

      Now, though, gazing at the images Megan had prepared for him, the plain black-and-red seemed a little bit tired, didn’t it? A little bit old.

      “We don’t want to go with different colors,” Megan suggested. “We don’t want to lose your brand recognition. We just want to…update your look a little. Instead of midnight black, we’ll make it just a tiny bit silvery. So the black has a certain…luster. No?”

      He was nodding. She continued, “And we’ll go from that slightly blue red to an even brighter, more aggressive true red….”

      “I like it.”

      She glanced at him. That dimpled smiled bloomed and her green eyes danced. “I kind of figured you would.”

      She spoke of launching a print campaign to make sure all of Banning’s customers were aware of the fresh styles they carried now. They needed, she said, to showcase the new clothing lines they’d recently introduced, the ones that targeted a younger, trendier consumer. She took apart Bannings.com, said the pages were too slow to load, and navigation could be simpler. Her Web guy, she promised, was a genius. He could get with Banning’s Web people and help them streamline the site while they worked on the various image-brand issues.

      Greg listened and nodded, asked a few questions and liked the answers he got, all the while planning how he was going to get to know her better.

      It might not be easy. She was direct and cheerful and friendly. But she wasn’t coming on to him. Not in the least.

      Still, she had to feel it, didn’t she? The heat of attraction? She was only behaving appropriately, hiding her personal interest in him, keeping it strictly business, right?

      Or was interest on her part no more than wishful thinking on his?

      He just plain couldn’t believe that he’d once lived on the same street with her and never even noticed her. She was not the kind of woman a normal, red-blooded man easily forgot.

      She wrapped up her presentation, and by then he was totally sold. He would have Design Solutions revamp the image of Banning’s department stores.

      But there were more steps to take before he could tell her she had it locked up. Greg’s father, Gregory, Sr., chairman of the board of Banning’s, Inc., would have to be convinced, as would a couple of the vice presidents. Greg had no doubt that Megan and her team would cinch it with the rest of them, but he wasn’t telling her that. No way. If he told her, she might just smile that stunning, dimpled smile, say “Thank you very much,” and leave.

      “I want to hear more,” he said, as she zipped up her portfolio. “It’s almost one. Are you hungry?”

      For the first time since she’d strolled so confidently through his office door, she looked doubtful. A slight frown formed between her smooth brows. She cleared her throat. “Well, I…” The words trailed off.

      He jumped right in before she could find a way to say no. “Let me take you to lunch. You like Italian? I know a great little Italian place up on Lexington at 33rd. The food is terrific and the service is, too.”

      For a moment—barely a split second—he thought she looked…what? Shocked? Wary? Slightly frantic?

      But before he could decide what the look might mean, it vanished. She flashed him another of those incredible smiles of hers. “Why not?” she said. “Lunch it is.”

      Megan was having the time of her life.

      She had so aced her presentation. Soon, there would be more meetings with more executives. She and her team would need to get right on a formal Flash presentation—one that would blow them all away.

      Oh, yeah. She would get the Banning’s account, she just knew it. And now here she was, sitting next to Greg on gorgeous, glove-soft black leather in a company limo.

      Greg had insisted on the limo, so she could stash her big portfolio and heavy briefcase in the trunk and forget about them while they were in the restaurant. Megan enjoyed a limo ride as much as the next girl. What was not to like?

      She leaned on the padded armrest and gazed out the smoked-glass window at semideserted Manhattan streets. “I love New York on days like this.”

      “You mean when everyone else is gone for the holiday?”

      “Exactly.” She turned to Greg, met those velvety brown eyes of his and told herself that the thrill that shimmered through her every time she looked at him didn’t mean a thing. “It’s so…peaceful. For a change.”

      “Your offices are in Poughkeepsie, you said?”

      She nodded. “Close to home and economical. You live here in the city now, don’t you?”

      “Yeah. I’ve got a loft apartment right on Broadway, two and a half blocks up from the office.”

      “Convenient.”

      “That’s what I tell myself….” He had a great voice. Deep. Smooth as melted chocolate. But did he sound kind of…wistful?

      She thought of Carly, wondered as she’d wondered more than once in the past months just what had gone wrong there—two beautiful people with everything going for them. Two nice people. Really, their breakup made no sense.

      Megan dared to suggest, “You sound…I don’t know. As if you’re not happy living in the city.”

      His warm gaze cooled just a little. “I’m happy. Perfectly. And here we are….” The limo rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant and the driver got out and opened the door for them.

      “Thank you, Jerry.” Greg pressed some bills into the driver’s palm. “We’ll be awhile. I’ll call for you when we’re ready to go.”

      “Good enough, Mr. Banning.” Jerry tipped his chauffeur’s cap and got back behind the wheel.

      After the heat of the summer day, the restaurant was cool and dim and inviting. The hostess called Greg by name and took them to a corner table. Even with half of Manhattan out of town, the place was almost full. “Must be popular,” Megan said to Greg once the hostess had left them.

      “It is. Deservedly so.” The wine steward appeared. He and Greg conferred briefly. The steward nodded and left, reappearing a moment later with bottle of chenin blanc. There was pouring and tasting. Finally, the wine guy left. Greg held up his glass.